


Running with Wolves

by YellowBlue



Series: American Wildlife [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Consent Issues, Dubious Morality, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Large Cock, Low(ish) honor Arthur Morgan, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Canon, Pure Smut, Rough Sex, Slighly Painful Sex, actually John just has a tight ass, but only for a moment, more or less PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBlue/pseuds/YellowBlue
Summary: The summer of 1894 was hotter than hell and the constant tension between John and Arthur came to a boiling point during the raid of a rundown farm house in the middle of nowhere.





	Running with Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> \- English is not my first language and I apologize in advance for the mistakes that you will definitely find -

A slight shove sent Arthur stumbling into the small and sparsely lit bedroom of the farm house he had planned to rob. He swallowed the curse that was on the tip of his tongue and he had to close his eyes for a moment, suppressing the urge strangle the younger man that was standing right behind him. During the last two hours that he had spent sitting behind a boulder in the heat of the summer evening, waiting for night to fall so that they could relieve the owners of everything that was of any worth Arthur's patience had already been tested to the limits. The sweltering heat, the annoying and constant buss of the insects and the gritty dryness in his throat and eyes would have been tolerable, but there was one factor that had made the the last hours almost unbearable, something that had made his life miserable for quite a while now.

 

This 'something' usually went by the name of John Marston who was standing together with him in that cramped bed room now, a grin plastered to his face that was downright obnoxious and that had Arthur fight hard to keep his cool. He had seen that insufferable grin one time too many in the last days and that made his hand itch to reach for his gun. The heat must have gotten to him, because for one moment he entertained the idea of silencing the younger outlaw once and for all. No one would hear the shot except for the farmer and his wife that he had left tied up in the barn and it would only cost him two additional bullets to get rid of the unwanted witnesses. A perfect crime in the middle of nowhere.

 

After the last heist that had been a spectacular disaster -the bank they hat tried to rob had already been robbed by another gang just two hours earlier and the federal marshals were already on their way- Dutch had made them move camp and had herded them to this godforsaken place that was too close to the desert and too far away from everything else for his liking.  Two weeks ago when they had set up their tents Susan Grimshaw had made it very clear to Dutch was she thought of this place. Now, two very long weeks later Arthur knew for sure that he hated the place just as much as Miss Grimshaw. There was absolutely nothing to do, everybody was just sitting around waiting for something to happen and it was driving them slowly crazy. The next town was too many miles away and all they could do was stare at the monotone scenery all day long, watching the occasional tumbleweed role by. Not knowing what to do with their time and energy set them on edge and made them all lose their temper more quickly. Especially John and Arthur suffered from this endless boredom. They were simply not used to staying at camp all day long, having nothing do, nothing to rob, nothing to hunt and nothing to shoot at. Starting petty fights and shouting at each other for no reason at all had become an unpleasant routine between them.

 

With a shake of his head Arthur decided to ignore the childish antics of the other and to focus on the job at hand. The faster they finished their search, the faster he could get rid of John and mind his own business again. With a growled “Start looking, idiot” he turned around and opened the drawer of the nightstand that was closest to him. He didn't really expect to find anything in there, but it gave him a reason not to look at –or shoot– the other.

 

He could clearly hear the listless sigh when the younger man opened the closet and rummaged through its content. If they were lucky they would find some cash squirreled away somewhere, but he wouldn't bet on it. After the first hour of the surveillance of the farm he had already known that they wouldn't find anything of actual worth in the old house, yet Hosea had almost insisted that they take a closer look at the farm, mentioning a tip he got from one of the very few locals.

 

"I'm going to to have a word with the farmer and the Missus," John announced suddenly, pocketing an old brooch that lay hidden between a neatly folded pair of stockings.

 

"What for? You think they have some treasure buried under the horseshit that's lying in their backyard?" Arthur didn't even bother looking at the other man while he spoke, opening the second drawer of the small nightstand.

 

"Nope, just going to cut them lose and have a chat." John's voice still held this bored and haughty tone and Arthur could actually feel the twitch of his fingers towards his revolver this time.

 

An annoyed sigh escaped the older gunslinger. Of course John would think that it was a good idea to ask the old farmer and his wife politely where they had hid their money and heirlooms. Knowing him he would probably shout insults and demand the information before he would start shooting the cattle, but that was beyond the point.

 

"They stay were they are," Arthur said, trying to keep his voice calm even though the flicker of irritation grew stronger and stronger. " I don't need them running to the Sheriff while we rob them. Go and look through the cabinet in the corridor.”

 

It didn't surprise him that John didn't follow his order. Instead he inspected an dented copper jewel casket which held nothing but a couple of old trouser buttons before letting it drop to the floor, facing the older man again.

 

"Sure, I get it.” he drawled, his voice mirthless and dry. “An old fart like you takes ages to look loot a couple of dressers. You'll probably get distracted by the old lady's bloomers." Not bothering with closing the closet doors John made to leave the sleeping room.

 

Arthur could feel something snap inside him when he heard the words. It was more the smug self-righteousness, the arrogance and the general ignorance than what John actually said that set his blood boiling. Before the young man was able to set one step over the door sill Arthur had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back into the room. Moving fast he closed his hand around the right wrist of the younger outlaw when he saw John's hand go towards the gun holster. Arthur new it was an instinct that was trained into both of them, expected it even. He seized the young outlaw by the worn cotton shirt with his other hand, resisting the urge to shake some common sense into him. Using his height and bigger size to his advantage the older gunslinger crowded John against the door that he had kicked shut, making it clear that he would not let the younger man leave.

 

"Wanna know what, Marston? I've had it with you!" His fingers around John's wrist tightened with the last word. "It's always about you and what you want, you self absorbed little shit. Do you really think you're so special? That you are more than a pathetic little street urchin that was lucky enough to be saved by Dutch and Hosea? Only God knows why they saved you. At least you would have been useful as food for the worms."

 

The rage that was flickering in the dark eyes was his only warning before he could feel John's knee connecting with his ribs. Pain blossomed along his side and a breathless groan escaped him. Just out of pure stubbornness he kept his hold on John's wrist, coughing slightly and breathing heavily through his nose, willing the pain away.

 

"You're so full of yourself, Morgan! John shouted, his gravel-rough voice sounding strained as he struggled against the hold the Arthur had on him, eyes blazing with anger.

 

Even though the young gunslinger had been able to gain a couple of more pounds and muscles in the last year making him look less like a scrawny little scarecrow he was still miles away from being able to compete with Arthur's powerful built and the older man just new exactly how to use is strength and weight to his advantage. Nonetheless, John was not even thinking about giving up and Arthur was reminded of a half-wild dog, snarling and biting at everything that came too close.

 

One moment later the air was knocked out of the younger of the two when Arthur flipped him around and slammed him with more force than necessary against the wood-paneled wall. For a couple of seconds they were just standing there, both men breathing hard. Both of John's wrists were held tightly behind his back by the older gunslinger and he was trying in vain to break free from he iron grip. Arthur tried to swallow the rage and anger that rolled over him in hot and cold waves. In this moment his rage was so real, so tangible that he had to close his eyes for a moment. He had enough of John, of the insolence, the arrogance and the constant provocations. One more word from the other and so God help him, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions. Hell, he was only five seconds away from putting a hole between John's eyes.

 

With a yell of outrage John tried to slam his head against Arthur's nose while trying to rip his arm out of the hold Arthur had on him. It was out of pure luck on Arthur's side that he had turned his head to the side in exactly the right moment.

 

"Try this again and I will break both of your hands". The low rumbling rasp in his voice was something that usually only surfaced when somebody was shot or when a heist went tremendously wrong. It was ironically fitting, because the fight between John and him escalated too quickly, the whole situation was nothing more than a train wreck that was just about to happen.

 

Arthur emphasized his words by tightening the grip he had around both of John's wrists, feeling the bones grind together under his fingers. Sweat was starting to bead up on his hairline and he grip he had around the wrists of the other man got harder to maintain with John struggling against him.

 

"You goddamn son of bitch! Wh--" His words ended in a pained gasp as Arthur shoved him hard against the wall again.

 

"Shut up, Marston." The words were nothing but a growl between clenched teeth. "I don't want to hear another word from you."

 

This _thing_ had been boiling between them for a while now. Like acid in a too hot kettle. Even though Arthur was used to John's moods and erratic behavior the last weeks had been too much. Trying to outgun Arthur in whatever the older man was doing had always been a part of their relationship, but lately John was just constantly there. Whenever he did something, whenever he looked over his shoulder he could be sure to find the young gunslinger standing two steps behind him, watching him with those dark eyes, literally breathing down his neck, too close for comfort. For weeks they had been at each others throat, even before they had reached their new camp in the middle of nowhere and it was only a matter of time before something would need to give or they would rip each other apart.

 

When Hosea had suggested the two of them should take a closer look at the one of the two farm houses that were close by, “burn off some energy, clear their heads an be useful”. He could still hear Hosea's voice in his head and the older man had made it sound so easy and almost pleasant, “just going for a ride, nothing too dangerous, something simple that even two knuckleheads like the two of them could handle”. Dutch had agreed and had send them on their way, with a encouraging smile on his lips and a wave of his hand. It had been an absolutely awful idea!

 

An angry huffing noise brought Arthur back from his thoughts and he focused again on the other gunslinger. He let his eyes wander over the slightly smaller form. A couple of buttons must have come lose when he had grabbed the younger by the shirt, because Arthur could see the naked skin of John's neck and shoulder that was in plain view directly under his own stubble rough chin. Grey ashen smudges sprinkled the sun-kissed skin of his shoulder and Arthur felt the sudden urge to bite, wondering if he would only taste day old dirt or if he would be able to taste something of that wild and angry spark that seemed to simmer under John Marston's skin. This naked strip of skin was like a Siren's call, making the gaze of the older man linger. The ragefilled heat he had felt in his chest was slowly wandering lower, forming into something else.

 

The older man could see the muscles of his neck and shoulder twitch when he shoved his knee between the legs of the brunet. With a sudden clarity he realized that he had maneuvered them into a position he liked just a bit too much. It was dangerous territory, but Arthur couldn't –didn't want to– let go of the other. The heat that he could feel through the thin material of the shirt and the faint smell of John's sweat that emanated from him went to his head like cheap liquor on a hot day.

 

"What will it take to get this through your head?" The question was nothing but a rough murmur against the dark unwashed hair that smelled of campfire and muddy earth. Arthur pressed himself closer to the smaller frame of the other, feeling John's hands that were trapped between his belly and the younger man's back ball into a fists. "You mess up, there will be consequences. You act like shitty little brat, I treat you like one." Even before he had finished those words he could feel that John had stopped struggling against his hold. "Going to be a good boy?" Arthur's deep voice had a mocking lilt that had the younger man snarling in response.

 

The tense stillness that was coiling under Johns skin told Arthur what he already knew. Even though he had ceased his struggles the young man was ready to fight the moment he had the chance to do so. John Marston was dangerous in more ways than one and maybe this was exactly the reason why Arthur wanted to push just a bit more and just a bit harder to see how far he could go. He was fighting -and losing to- the urge too do something that he might regret later that night. This urge to tame this wildness, the need to put the younger man in his place was defying all common sense and made an unfamiliar heat burn low in his belly that Arthur couldn't ignore.

 

John tried to turn his head, tried to catch Arthur's blue eyes when the older man loosened the grip on his wrists. Before the brunet could even react to this newly gained freedom the older man had seized him by one arm and dragged him away from the wall. He stumbled slightly, trying to regain his balance when Arthur shoved him towards the other side of the room where a solid but old and used double bed was standing. A hard push against the small of his back send the young outlaw stumbling forward, the old bed frame creaked loudly when it was met with the full weight of the younger man and a surprised sound escaped the young gunslinger when he landed on the worn mattress. He had narrowly missed the sturdy bet post with his head and Arthur thanked his lucky star that he didn't have to drag the young man man back to the camp with his brain dribbling out of his ears.

 

Wide, dark eyes watched Arthur as he approached the bed and loosened his gun belt before putting it on the small nightstand that was standing next to the bed. The older man met the questioning gaze of the other gunslinger steadily, his blue eyes hard and unmoving, bare of most emotion except for the anger and irritation that were still burning on the surface of his mind. It was obvious that John was trying to understand what was going on with the older man. It was also obvious that he failed in doing so and his expression dropped into a confused frown. He liked John like this. Not scared into submission, never scared, John was too much of a reckless idiot for this, but quiet and apprehensive.

 

Arthur rummaged in the drawer that was still hanging open from when he and John had gone through the belongings of the owners of the house. He had seen a small tin jar earlier and with a bit of luck it was what he needed for this little encounter he had in mind. His hand closed around the container and he pulled it out before quickly scanning the label. The letters on the lid were almost scratched off and he could only guess how long the jar had been sitting there, but it would would do the job just nicely, decided Arthur.

 

"You're lucky, boy." The small pot with the cream landed next to John on the grayed out pillow case. John's eyes widened almost comically as he finally understood what Arthur's intentions were and what the older man planned to do. Before the dark haired outlaw could even open his mouth Arthur had grabbed him by the nape of his neck.

 

"The warning still stands. One word and you'll regret it." The rage that he had felt all night was still coloring his voice. He pushed the brunet back on the old mattress before settling between his legs, shoving him further up the bed.

 

John opened his mouth, closed it again with a faint click of teeth when he felt Arthur take hold of his worn leather boots. A couple of seconds later both men could hear the heavy clunk as the old boots landed in a dark corner of the room and the young gunslinger jumped slightly when he felt the rough hands grabbing his shirt. With a warning look that was an echo of his words from earlier Arthur opened the last buttons of Johns shirt. He could feel the muscles jumping slightly under the skin as Arthur brushed the material off his frame and down his arms. The pants were fast work, only held up by a pair of of old threadbare cotton suspenders and the worn gun belt that hit the floor with a loud clatter.

 

Arthur's hungry gaze traveled over the naked body of his fellow outlaw. He saw the slight flinch when John tried to close his legs only to be stopped by his rough calloused hands, fingers lingering on the the soft skin of the inside of his thighs. The naked defenselessness and the lag of resistance from the young man made heat coil low in Arthur's stomach. Without taking his eyes of John he opened the lid of the small tin and dipped his fingers into the cold, slightly sticky cream. The dark haired man watched him nervously, his eyes following every move.

 

A slight sheen of sweat glistened on John's upper lip and Arthur brushed the small drops away with his his thump, feeling the slightly chapped lips scrape along the pad of his finger when John opened his lips in surprise. He then grabbed one leg and pushed it up and further apart, letting his eyes linger on the sight before him for a moment. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had been able to fuck somebody that wasn't a whore in a proper bed. His slick fingers were brushing over the soft skin of the perineum before he reached his goal. Slowly and carefully he let his finger slip inside John's hole. He could feel the muscles clench slightly as he pushed deeper, his fingertips rubbing gently against the soft inner walls. Arthur's eyes never left those of the dark haired man below him as he stretched him open. A pretty red flush was spreading over John's cheeks and neck as he felt Arthur's broad finger circle around the rim before pushing in again.

 

"You look good like this" Arthur said, almost in an absurdly casual tone as if he was commenting on a new piece of clothing he had bought for John. He turned his wrist slightly, his index finger brushed over the bundle of nerves before he pressed hard into it, coaxing a almost pained moan out of the younger man.

 

Without stopping the slow movement of his finger against the spot in John that made him utter breathy gasps the older man opened the his pants with the other hand and let his hard cock spring free. A small relieved moan escaped him when he wrapped his fingers around the girth, stroking the hard length a couple of times just to take off the edge. He had been hard since the moment John had stopped struggling against his hold and the sight of that pale hole slick with cream and opening up around his finger so nicely had him dripping with anticipation.

 

"It's like the last time, isn't it?" Before he could even finish the sentence he knew that he'd struck a nerve with his words.

 

John broke the eye contact, he looked like somebody had slapped him across the face. The only reaction Arthur got when he pressed a second finger in was a slight hiss through clenched teeth. Arthur swallowed around the little lump in his throat that felt strangely like guilt. An irritable frown hushed over his face. Wasn't this what he wanted? John without the usual bluster and bravado, John meek and quiet, submitting to him and surrendering to his touch. And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that he should make things ... different this time.

 

Arthur could still remember the panicked look in those dark eyes when he had first fucked John. The dark haired gunslinger was so young then, almost still a kid. He hadn't expected Arthur, a man that he had just started to call brother, to push him onto the dirty mattress of the equally dirty hotel room they were sharing for the night. He had also not expected to be undressed by rough hands and to be shoved down on his stomach. John's whole body had been frozen with tension and something else that Arthur refused to acknowledge as fear. And he had been so unbelievable tight when he had pushed a thump into that virgin hole and so unbearable hot and snug to the point where it was on the verge of being painful when he finally fucked him. It was so easy now to remember the noises John had made, the little whimper that escaped him when Arthur had touched him down there, gasping for breath and unable to speak the words that just wouldn't come, so close to begging Arthur to stop, but never doing so.

 

Arthur usually didn't indulge in these thoughts. They were memories that he had shoved down, together with that hideous abomination, this monster that was just lurking in the deepest corner of his mind and that he called the dark side of his consciousness. But sometimes, when he was drunk enough, cold enough and lonely enough he remembered this night. These were the moments when he would find himself with his hand on his hard and weeping cock, stroking desperately and longing for the warm skin and tight body of John Marston, guilt and lust burning hot in his belly. And now John was here, was right under him, warm and real and Arthur was painfully aware of the fact that he wanted him more than ever before.

 

With a final push against the the tiny bundle of nerves inside of John that elicited a the choked off moan from the young man Arthur pulled his fingers out and grabbed the small tin again that had rolled close to the edge of the mattress. After slicking up his cock with the rest of the cream he wiped his hand on a corner of the bed cover and grabbed the narrow waist of the other. John gave a little jerk when he felt Arthur's hard length sliding between his ass checks. The slow drag of his cock along the cleft of John's ass made both of them shiver slightly, the young man breathing fast and deep, trying to prepare himself for what was about to come. The slickness of the cream made everything smooth and slippery, even though the twin globes of his ass were like the rest of John: Just a bit too skinny for Arthur's liking.

 

"Going to make it good for you", the older man murmured while positioning his cock against John's slick asshole. This time it was him jerking in surprise when he felt John's legs wrap around his broader hips. The startled gasp was almost inaudible as he searched the others eyes. A defiant rage was still burning in those dark expressive eyes, but there was also something else, trust and doubt and lust and nervousness and so much more that Arthur just couldn't put a name on. With a quiet hum he took one of John's hands that were curled into the bed sheets and put it on his shoulder, close to his chest, before he resumed his position.

 

Arthur's cock head pressed hard against the resisting and still tight hole, before slipping in. A deep groan escaped him. The feeling of John's body slowly opening up for him and enveloping his dick was everything he had tried to forget over those last years. A wave of pure bliss crashed over him and all he could do was take a deep breath and try to not lose control. Arthur wanted to take his time. John was so wonderful tight and warm, so perfect for him. He relished in the feeling of John's skin against his own and of the slick heat surrounding his dick. Arthur slowly started rocking his hips slightly, pushing deeper before he was met with a certain kind of resistance he remembered from the first time he had fucked John.

 

Letting his hand brush along Johns side Arthur gripped the slender hips in his hands before pulling him closer. The next push into the body under him was met with same unrelenting clench and for a moment he thought John would try to push him away and to fight him off, but the hands of the young gunslinger just fisted into the fabric of his worn shirt. Even though they hadn't even really started the young outlaw was already a mess, clinging to the shirt of the older man and panting wetly against his shoulder, his face flushed and sweaty. The long legs tightened around Arthur's waist, one knee pushing painfully into the bruised on his left ribs John had left there earlier.

 

Arthur's voice sounded strangely scratchy and coarse when he spoke: "Spread your legs a bit more. Want to be all in you." The brunet swallowed audibly when he heard those words, trying to keep in the noises that threatened to escape him.

 

"Arthur, I ... I can't! I just..." John sounded frustrated and almost desperate. His legs were trembling slightly as he tried to relax around Arthur. Dark, wide eyes fell shut as the older man pulled out almost completely only to push in again. He was by no means small and John visibly struggled to take his length. The older man patted along his sides, letting his hands linger on the narrow waste and brushed his thumps over the prominent hip bones. The stubble on his cheek and chin left a reddish burn as Arthur rubbed his face along the slim neck before he let his teeth scratch over the collar bone of the younger man, the sharp taste of sweat rolling heavily over his tongue.

 

"Relax, Johnny. You're doing so well." The husky murmur of prays was almost drowned in the harsh breathing that filled the room. "Just a little bit more." Arthur knew that John was able to take him. The tightness was giving away to wet clinging heat with every small thrust and push. It was only a matter of time and patience, because he knew John was made for this, was made for him.

 

The older outlaw hooked his arms under John's thighs, lifting them and re-positioned him so that his ass was raised against the mattress, allowing him to slide in more easily. The slight wince and pained whimper that escaped John when he went in too deep too fast made him stop almost immediately, the fist that punched his shoulder made him curse at the same time. His hands slipped on the sweat slicked skin when he grabbed John's hips hard and held him down while the younger man tried to wiggle out from under him.

 

"Shit, it's all good. It's OK." Arthur tried to make his gruff voice sound as gentle as possible. The boy was too tense, jerking and twitching with every touch of his hands and it felt a lot like breaking in a new horse, Arthur decided, when he tried to get them in a more comfortable position, just to feel the younger buck underneath him.

 

Arthur stroked gently along the brunet's hips and over his belly and chest up to his shoulders, trying to make him relax into his touch, trying to calm the frantic breaths. The apology that was on the tip of his tongue was forgotten when felt John' hips starting to move against his own. He wasn't sure if the other even realized what he was doing, but Arthur took it as a OK to continue. He let his hands run along the inside of John's thighs and pushed him open a bit more, trying to get those last inches into his tight body. Arthur kept his movements slow, looking down at the man below him. The young outlaw had his face pressed into the pillow, eyes screwed shut, teeth worrying the already bitten and red bottom lip. A mix between a moan and a whimper escaped John when he shifted the angle of his trusts a bit, hitting something in the younger man that made him arch his back in pleasure. God it was addicting having the other like this. So eager and responsive, trying to take what Arthur was giving to him.

 

"C'mon Johnny, just let me in." Arthur could feel the wet hardness of the younger man's cock pressing against his belly when he bend down to murmur those words against John's lips.

 

It felt like the dark haired gunslinger was still on the verge of fighting him. The hand on his shoulder curled into his shirt, dragging him closer before pushing against him. His other hand wound itself in Arthur's dark blond locks and pulled his head up, making the older man's breath stutter. The prickling pain in his scalp send a new spike of arousal through him and he had to fight the urge to just fuck into that tight heat. He felt a couple of strands coming lose when the brunet relaxed his hold again.

 

Burying his face against the side of his neck he tried in vain to get his breathing under control. He kissed the spot right under John's ear before letting his lips drag wetly against the skin. Arthur knew he was selfish in his pleasure when he started to lick and nip the juncture between John's neck and shoulder. With a muffled moan he closed his mouth over the piece of skin that had the woken this dark and terrible abomination in him. He merely yielded to it's call, relenting to the urge he had felt earlier and sucked an angry looking red mark into the skin, vicious teeth marks visible around the edges.

 

The raspy groan that escaped John and the frantic heart beat Arthur could feel under his lips when he pressed his mouth against the sweaty skin of his neck made him growl low in his chest. God, he wanted to mark the boy, make him remember this moment whenever he looked into a mirror. The fingers in his hair tightened again and he could feel John swallow repeatedly, still trying to get accustomed to the hard length inside of him. Before Arthur even realized what he was doing he was licking a burning line from his collar bone to his chin and biting John's jaw more gently than he intended.

 

At the same time John's legs fell open, allowing Arthur to slip in just a bit deeper. And there it was. The rough, hoarse moan that he was waiting for. Almost inaudible at first, but getting louder and more desperate. Like sandpaper dragging along silk, obscenely wrong and yet surprisingly satisfying.

 

"Please...Arthur!" The strangled moan of his name had him look up, taking in the sight of the man below him. John looked so utterly gorgeous like this. Pupils blown wide, chest heaving with every desperate breath he took and his little hole stretched wide around Arthur's cock. Arthur rocked his hips upwards, earning another moan as he filled John all the way. His entire length was now sliding in and out of the younger man in a deep and slow rhythm. Dark brown eyes fluttered wide open and a low whine escaped him the moment Arthur quickened his trusts and started to fuck the dark haired man at a faster pace. He could hear the splintering creak of the bed frame when he started to slam into John, hard and fast. It felt divine, this raw sensation of just rutting into that tightness without any care or mercy.

 

Arthur wanted burn himself into the soul of this man that was writhing under him, trembling and moaning his name so sweetly. He wanted to wreck him, make him scream and cry out in pleasure or pain, it didn't matter to Arthur in this moment. The monster in him roared triumphantly, finally satisfied that he had given into his desire and that he had claimed John Marston again. It was the same selfish and greedy desire that made him want to see the other man fall apart, to make him yield to his touch and yearn for more.

 

While watching his own dick work in and out of John's red hole Arthur wrapped his hand around the hard cock of the younger. A spurt of precum that Arthur gathered with his thump made it an easy slide as he worked his hand up and down the hard flesh. He could feel John's inner walls flutter slightly around him when he tightened his hand for a moment before letting go and wrapping his hands again around John's waste, thrusting hard and trying to find the spot in him that made the younger clench so deliciously around him. With a hard thrust that made the old wooden bed frame creak again he knew that he had found it when he felt him shiver and jerk against him, making the young man gasp for air. A breathless "Hnn...fuck yeah!" was punched out of the younger and Arthur could feel the John's heels pressing hard against the small of his back, urging him deeper again.

 

"Bet I could make you come like this. Just with my cock in you and nothing else." With a breathless, thready voice Arthur murmured these words against Johns ear. And at that moment he wanted nothing more than to hold the the brunet down, feel the younger shudder and tremble as he fucked him through his climax so hard that he would feel it for days.

 

John's hole was twitching around his dick when he started to grind hard against the younger man. He knew he wouldn't last and that he would not be able to follow through with his words. He was already so close that he could feel it low and heavy in his stomach, but that didn't make it less delightful having the younger man writhing under him, pushing him closer to the edge with every word and every thrust of his hips.

 

An electric heat was running in jolts along his spine and was spreading down to his toes. It only took him a couple of quick and sharp thrusts and he was losing his rhythm. Arthur could see John's hard cock jump against his stomach as he bottomed out and came deep inside the younger man. A loud moan was ripped out of him and the world around him became dark and hazy for am moment. It felt incredible. Like the air was punched out of him and like he was struck by lightning at the same time, like his brain was drowned in perfect ecstasy that was almost too much an too overwhelming when he felt his come flooding the insides of the brunet in hot spurts. The only thing he could do was hold on, helplessly clinging to the body of the other man as he rode the last waves of his orgasm.

 

It felt like it took him hours to come down from this blissed out high while an static buzz was still coursing through his whole body. Arthur slowly opened his eyes that he couldn't remember closing and loosened the hold he had on the narrow hips. The sight that greeted him when he was able to focus his eyes again made his mouth water. John was so desperate, so close to his own orgasm that tears of frustration were glittering in his eyes, one hand fisted into the bedspread under him while the other was wrapped around his own weeping cock. He was moving his hips slightly against the other man and seeking the friction against this one spot in him that would push him over the edge. It didn't seem to be be enough.

 

A garbled "going to fucking kill you" was all John managed when Arthur slapped his hand away from his leaking and heavy dick.

 

"Non of that. Promised to make it good for you, sweetheart," Arthur said with a breathless laugh. The pet name felt strangely right and the older gunslinger could have sworn that a flustered look hushed over John's face while that the sweaty red flush on his cheeks took on a deeper shade.

 

Putting one of his knees over his shoulder he grinned against the soft skin of John's thigh. He could see a shudder running through the slender body under him when he curled his fingers around his cock, giving it a slow stroke. Arthur knew it wouldn't take much and indeed, he could already feel an see the first shudders run through him. For a moment he let his hand rest on the flat belly and he could feel the muscles jumping under the skin, feel the younger man slowly come apart. The moans of the young outlaw hit a new level when Arthur licked over his palm before wrapping his hand again around the leaking cock and jerking him off hard. And for the first time in weeks Arthur was glad that they were indeed in the middle of nowhere. He had already guessed that the boy was going to be loud, but he hadn't expected the sheer volume of noise when Arthur bit down hard on the inside of John's thigh while rubbing his thump over the sensitive head of his cock, pushing the younger over the edge. John was coming hard, head thrown back into the pillow, groaning and gasping, clamping down on Arthur's half hard dick so hard that he considered this a new form of torture. Hot white ropes of cum splattered against his fingers and streaked the flat stomach and chest that was heaving with John's frantic breaths. John coming undone under his hands was something he didn't know he wanted, but at that moment knew that this was what he needed to see. The young man was by no means beautiful, yet there was something so alluring about seeing him lost in the trows of passion that made this the prettiest thing he had seen in a very long time.

 

After a couple of seconds Arthur could feel the other's body go slack and heavy in his arms. Sweat and come were already starting to cool on the skin that still felt hot under his touch. John blinked a couple of times, a dazed look on his face when Arthur lowered his legs back on the bed and rubbed his flanks, feeling the muscles tremble under his fingers. The young man looked so tempting like this. Dark eyes shining with a feverish glow, his skin flushed, covered in come, sweat and spit. He was a perfect picture of debauchery. The wet squelching sound and John's heavy breathing filled the silence of the night when the older man finally pulled is dick out of him. John's hole was puffy and red, the rim slightly swollen as it clenched around the sudden emptiness and Arthur fought the urge to push it open again with his fingers.

 

Reluctantly and with a soft sigh turned away from the sight before him, tucked himself away and re-buttoned his trousers. He let let his gaze wander over the open closet, the clutter and clothing that littered the floor and took in the general state of chaos. They had found pretty much nothing that any fence would be willing to buy and Arthur realized that there was probably nothing to be gained by going through the rest of the belongings of the old farmer and his wife. Whoever it was that had told Hosea they would find things of great worth and hidden treasures in this rundown little farm house was probably just a jealous neighbor that always thought that the grass on the other side of the fence always looked just a little bit greener.

 

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since both of them had entered the house, but he was sure that they had definitely overstayed their 'welcome'. When he turned his head to tell John to grab his stuff so that they could finally leave he saw that the younger was still lying on the bed, trying to wipe off the drying come on his stomach with a corner of the already soiled bed sheet. The young gunslinger was staring at him through hooded eyes with a thoughtful and curious look on his face.

 

"What's going on in your head, Marston?" He questioned the younger man, putting on his own boots that were lying next to the bed.

 

"Jus' wond'ring." John's words were slightly slurred when the brunet finally spoke, still studying the older man.

 

Before he even realized what he was doing Arthur leaned over the young gunslinger and let his fingers slide along the stubble rough cheek. He didn't know what it was about that moment that made him want to touch John Marston, that made him want to stay. Maybe it was this unreadable look in those dark eyes or the way he looked in the semi darkness of the room, his body pliant and soft under his touch, looking something between well-fucked and sensually innocent. Maybe it was the way John was leaning into his touch ever so slightly when the older man brushed his thump gently over one sharp cheek bone that made the older man forget that they should leave.

 

"The things you do to me", whispered Arthur brokenly as he touched his forehead against John's. He could feel the other's breath brushing over his cheek and lips as the younger man nuzzled closer and slowly slid a hand into his hair.

 

Feeling the lips of his fellow outlaw brush along his chin made a different kind of satisfaction throb thickly in his chest and throat. It felt good having John so close, relaxed and sated, muscled heavy and lose. Yet this closeness and intimacy was something they had never shared before and that they probably shouldn't share. It felt wrong and right, terrifying and perfect at the same time and for the love of God, Arthur didn't know what to do with it. He just knew that this boy was going to be his downfall. There was something about John Marston that made him forget who he was, in the worst way and the best. This urge to hold the dark haired man down, to ravish and to claim him was something Arthur didn't know how to handle. This was nothing he had ever felt with Mary. This desire was dark, vicious and untamed. It was burning through him and he was almost too scared to really acknowledge what had happened between them and what he did to John, because he knew that he already went too far. One bite from the forbidden fruit was enough to make him yearn for more and more and more.

 

Arthur let his eyes travel over the unkempt hair, the bitten lips and the bruises on John's neck. The younger man looked good like that, carrying the marks of their fucking with a casualty that made a strange heat pool low in Arthur's stomach. The thought that it would be undeniably obvious what had happened to the brunet and that people would guess, yet never know that it was Arthur who had put those marks there was something that made a possessive pride roll through him.

 

"What're you wondering?" murmured Arthur against John's half open lips. He had to close his eyes for a moment, scared that the other might be able to see the desire and longing in his blue eyes. It was so easy to imagine what it would be like to press him back into the bed sheets and to map out the bruises he had left on John's body with his hands and mouth.

 

When he opened his eyes again he was met with a sharp and knowing look that made his breath caught in his throat and his stomach drop. The gentle affection hat Arthur had seen in those dark eyes just moments before was gone now and he new that look just too well. It dawned on him that he had been wrong in believing that he had understood what had happened that night. A slight smirk hushed over John's lips when he saw his reaction and he wrought his hand tightly into Arthur's hair.

 

"I'm wondering if it'll take you another five years to fuck me again, you old bastard." Even though his voice still lagged the usual bite it had a patronizing tone to it that made Arthur recoil only to be stopped by the hand that was still holding his dark blond locks in a tight fist.

 

The unspoken sentences hang heavy between them: 'Did you really think that this could happen without me wanting it to happen? Did you really think I'm yours?' And of course Arthur should have seen it from the start. There was no obedience, no submission, no giving into what the older man wanted. He should have known that it was impossible to control the boy. John Marston was only giving what he was willing to give, taking everything he wanted in return and hunting his own pleasure with a single-mindedness that served only himself.

 

John pressed a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth before untangling his fingers from his hair and getting up from the bed. With a slight groan he stretched his back, arms raised above his head, the bruises on his wrist and his hips standing out vividly even against the bluish-grey darkness that had settled over the room, the only light was the moon shining through your window. Unashamed of his nudity John turned around to face the older man. That insufferable smirk was still lingering on his lips.

 

"Five fucking years! I honestly thought you might've forgotten how to use your cock for more than just pissing." John's voice still hadn't lost this hoarse scratchiness from earlier.

 

With nimble fingers he buttoned up his shirt, leaving the top three buttons open, uncaring of the dark bite mark and the reddish beard-burn that was visible for everybody that cared to look. Arthur could see the evidence of their recent activities running down the inside of John's legs when the young gunslinger bend down to pick up his pants. He knew that John would still feel his cum inside him when they rode back to camp together. That thought alone made him almost reach out and grab the boy. Jesus Christ, if he were ten years younger he would fuck the brunet right then and there again, consequences be damned.

 

It was only when the younger of the two was fully dressed again that Arthur really looked at him. He could see that the John was more or less back to his usual self. The young Outlaw was standing in front of him fastening his gun belt, looking just a bit too confident and too sure of himself, hiding whatever there was behind a layer of toughness and bravado. For a couple of seconds they were just staring at each other in silence. It was like they were both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to break the sudden tension. Arthur was trying to gather his thoughts and to find the right words that would help him understand what he was feeling at that moment. There was a shift in their relationship that he just couldn't explain. He wasn't sure what had changed between them, but there was something off, like glass that was slowly cracking under too much heat.

 

"Cut the farmer and his wife lose, Morgan," John interrupted him before he could even open his mouth to speak.

 

The brunet didn't even bother with checking the other rooms of the house when he turned around and left the bed room, their task to rob the old couple was completely forgotten. Or maybe he felt like Arthur himself who just couldn't find it in him to go through the other drawers, chests and cupboards only to find a couple of coins or old trinkets with more sentimental worth than financial. Heavy boots thudded down the stairs and John left the farmhouse with a loud bang of the front door, leaving Arthur behind in the small bedroom. A deep breath and a murmured "Shit" was all he could manage in that moment.

 

That night Arthur had learned that it was too easy to get lost in the sensation and the taste and heat of John Marston's body. He had also learned that he was a goddamn fool for thinking he could tame this unpredictable, stubborn and wild creature. Still, he couldn't find it in him to regret what had happened between them, because there was one fact that came with everything that remained unsaid between them: The fact that John had _wanted_ it to happen and that he had been _willing_ to be Arthur's, even if it was just for an hour or two. With an amused shake of his head he got up from the bed and grabbed his gun belt that was still sitting on the open nightstand.

 

Sooner or later he would probably give into the temptation of having John Marston again. And if it meant that he had to run a little bit faster to catch him then he would.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I know I made Arthur into a bit of a bastard, but there is already enough high-honor-Arthur out there. And yes, John is very much OK with Arthur Morgan fucking him until Kingdom comes. John was never a pushover, even though he was probably bit scrawny at the age of 21. If he wouldn't be into this there would be a lot of blood, bullets flying through the air and maybe even an explosion … or two. 
> 
> Also: Writing something in a language that is not my native language was harder than expected and I hate the fact that even after re-reading and re-writing everything several million times there are probably still many mistakes left.


End file.
